With Your Reins in My Hands
by Milky Way Wanderer
Summary: Inspired by dirtytwentysomething's image (and with the same title) John finds himself helpless and bound, completely in Sherlock's control. D/s, Japanese rope bondage, nsfw


**A/N** Inspired by drawing done by dirtytwentysomething (can be viewed here: post/71077508705/with-your-reins-in-my-hands-i-wish-i-could-ask )

John was surprised, to say the least, when Sherlock grabbed him from behind and bound his wrists at the small of his back, taking him without consent despite both knowing the smaller man begrudgingly desired it for the first time. From there, their relationship grew, escalating without a word needing to be spoken from improvised bindings of scarves and ties to more complex, thought out, and intense planned sessions, the domestic romance evolving along with it.  
This was how John Watson found himself kneeling, stripped of all clothing, in the middle of the parlor floor, the grain of the carpet pressing into his knees. He could feel Sherlock looming figure circle around him, inspecting him as if he he were a hunter sizing up his catch.  
"Stand."  
Sherlock's baritone voice, which always managed to take an authoritative tone that John could never believe he was capable of before he used it during their sessions, broke the silence. John brought himself to his feet, standing with a small wobble. Despite Sherlock's cold facade, he did place a hand on John's shoulder to steady him, and a ghost of a smile crossed the blonds lips at the gesture.  
John watched Sherlock walk over to the corner of the room, opening the chest that had slowly been filled with various ropes and toys from frantic shags, and rummaging through it's contents. Soon, Sherlock seemed to have found what he was looking for, a large coil of thin, tightly woven silk rope that John was sure wasn't there during their last session, and a decent sized plug. He felt his heart pound against his chest, the question of what Sherlock had in mind for him racing through his head, though of course it would surely end with an immobile and whimpering John.  
Sherlock popped open a bottle lube before tapping at the inside of John's legs to signal him to spread them; John obeyed quickly, and without fail one of Sherlock's fingers slipped inside of him. He moaned quietly; Sherlock waited a moment for him to adjust before moving around and stretching him until the digit slid in and out easily. He completely removed his finger before lubing up a second and sliding both within him, this time finding John's prostate and pressing it measuredly. He let out a small cry, accompanied by a whimper as Sherlock scissored his fingers, and it took all of the mans willpower not to lean back onto the hand. The Holmes soon pulled out, and after quickly lubing up the plug, eased it slowly into John. The doctor, having taken much more, was able to accept it easily, only gasping slightly as the widest point pressed through the tight ring of muscle and settled comfortably within his arse. He was given a while to adjust to being filled, and the tip pressed into his prostate ever so slightly as Sherlock pushed on the flared end with a smirk. The man stood, walking around to face John. He leaned forward, excruciatingly close but not quite touching his lips before whispering "Quiet," the hot breath teasing his hyped up skin. He turned and gather the coil of rope that had been left forgotten on the floor.  
John's eyebrows furrowed as the rope was unwound completely, and the estimated center of the length found by the detective. A glint of determination in impossibly colored eyes and a smirk gracing Sherlock's smug cupid bow, the lanky man began working without a word.  
John stood still, anticipation and excitement along with a hint of nervousness welling within his stomach as Sherlock wound his web over his torso, the thin rope twisting and pulling over his chest and back, intertwining in an impossible array of knots that Sherlock surely had studied and practiced for quite some time. He could feel the tightness slowly constrict his torso, the bindings tightening and making any large breaths deliciously strained and difficult. Despite the fact that Sherlock had yet to bind his hands, or ankles for that matter, the man was already in more control over his functions than he ever had been, his entire stomach and chest wrapped by the weaving of the rope.  
Sherlock's strong, nimble hands soon pulled the rope ends from a twist at the base of his spine around his hips to meet and tie once more, this time only a few inches above his incredibly hard and weeping cock. A ring had been placed on John's member at the beginning of the session, and the ache of his cock was already present from Sherlock's gliding fingers, which left trails of sparks and heat in their wake on the tan skin of the army doctor.  
John saw a wicked grin split the detectives face, and he swallowed nervously. Sherlock reached up a hand from his position of kneeling in front of John to fondle his shaft lazily. He was still clothed in his usual expensive attire, which only served to make John feel even more vulnerable in the taller mans control, and he couldn't help but release a needy whimper at the touch.  
"Ah ah ah," Sherlock reprimanded, "silence." The man hummed to himself thoughtfully, toying with the rope now in his hands. "This would look ravaging, wound tightly around your cock...but I simply hadn't planned for that. I'll allow you this mercy," he said, and much to John's relief, brought the two strands of rope along the creases where his legs met the area and pressed into his arse cheeks, only to loop around the previous knot at the small of his back and back down to his legs. Sherlock dropped to his knees behind John once more, and soon the remainder of the rope was wrapped tightly about his thigh, connecting occasionally the the strand close to his shaft before tying it off at the back of his thigh, near the inside of his leg with a long remainder hanging intimidatingly down to the floor. Sherlock repeated the action to the other strand, before standing and looking over his web with a nod of approval, a devious smile on his face. John had to admit Sherlock's work was rather impressive, and while the mans back was to him walking over to the chest in the corner once more, he ran his hands over the tightly tangled net that Sherlock had created around him.  
Holmes returned with a pair of sturdy cuffs, and John couldn't help the nervous drop of his stomach, still jittery with excitement, as Sherlock carefully secured his wrists forcefully behind him, crossing them before attaching the now immobile limbs to the rope at his back. John was now completely within Sherlock's control, and completely at his mercy.  
His master came the front to grasp at his hair, kissing him passionately with a fire that only Sherlock could create with lips alone. He pulled away, and John panted and gasped for breath, unable to do much else. Sherlock looked him sternly in the eyes, searching John's.  
"What do you need?" He asked, commanding an answer with a growl. "You can speak."  
"You, sir. I need you."  
"What do you need from me? Be specific, John."  
John blushed; Sherlock wanted to hear him say it.  
"I..I need you to fuck me, sir. Please," he said softly, this time a small whimper accompanying his request.  
Sherlock seemed pleased by John's words this time, and with another desperate kiss he moved around behind John. The plug was pulled from John's heat carefully but hastily, and John let out a throaty moan as he was emptied and his ring of muscle stretched.  
"Spread your legs," Sherlock ordered, and John did as he was told. The blonde could feel Sherlock move away, and was surprised how fast the man returned, devoid of clothing. He grabbed him from behind, holding him tightly to his chest which heaved from lust. One hand snaked down John's tightly bound stomach towards his cock, and the blond released a relieved breath as the cock ring was slipped from his aching member, falling onto the floor.  
Sherlock's hands slipped further, down to his thighs, tracing the tight bindings around his legs before finding the remaining rope and grasping it firmly, wrapping it around his palms for good measure. John closed his eyes, holding his breath until-  
John yelped, Sherlock plunging into the smaller mans heat and hitting his prostate with precise aim. John was already stretched from the plug, and Sherlock didn't waste time easing into a fast pace; from the first thrust, he kept up a frantic, rough, and punishing pace. He pulled out of John almost completely before yanking the blonde back to be impaled by his length with what now were clearly reins. John was helpless; he would've fallen over from Sherlock's rough pounding from the beginning if it weren't for the strong hands holding the rope that controlled his every movement so completely. His breathing was fast and ragged, unable to breath quite sufficiently due to the tight ropes around his chest and middle which tightened with Sherlock's pulling on his rope. John grunted with every thrust, eventually rising onto his toes to ease Sherlock's job. He could feel the detectives hot, ragged breath against his neck, and John whimpered and mewled as Sherlock cruelly abused his prostate, hitting it each time with every pull of his ropes, of John's reins.  
Sherlock filled him and stretched him so perfectly, and it wasn't long until John felt the growing pressure in his abdomen come to a peak.  
"Sherlock," John gasped, "I'm...I'm about to-" he panted. Sherlock jerked him back onto his cock once more, stilling momentarily. He leaned over, pressing into John's back.  
"Come for me, John," he breathed into his ear, his voice practically shaking from pleasure.  
The man moved out before pulling on John's reins once more, plunging into John and roughly hitting John's prostate on target once again. That was all it took to send John over the edge, and his back arched as he came, his head thrown back and a scream ripping from his throat as he shot his seed onto the carpet. He clenched around Sherlock's cock, which he could feel was riding through his orgasm, and was blinded by white light and pure bliss. He could vaguely feel Sherlock's hot seed spurt deep inside him, saturating his entrance. John strained against the bonds holding his wrists as he came, his muscles pulling from his intense release.  
Soon the high of John's orgasm had faded, and he felt weak and utterly exhausted, his breathing a heavy pant. He could register firm yet gentle hands guiding him to kneel on the floor and bend over, resting his head against the seat of a nearby chair. Sherlock quickly set to work on releasing John, uncuffing his hands and rubbing each wrist gently and lovingly. John smiled softly, and let his arms fall limply to his sides as the rope was untied, leaving marks in some places and what would surely be bruises on his thighs. Much quicker than it had been created, Sherlock's web was unwound, and John could take deep breaths freely. He felt lightweight and odd without the constricting ropes around him, and smiled softly as he felt gentle lips press over his shoulders and back. Sherlock lifted John from the floor, not giving a chance for argument, and lay them both down on the couch, wrapping John up and laying him on his chest. Sherlock's lips pressed to his hair.  
"How was that?" He asked softly.  
John grinned.  
"Brilliant."


End file.
